


The Curious Tale Of Dr. Ophiuchus

by HorizonTheTransient



Category: Genius: The Transgression, Parahumans Series - Wildbow, World of Darkness (Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Mad Science
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22532728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HorizonTheTransient/pseuds/HorizonTheTransient
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1: Cry Havoc

"Hey, sailor."

I made a strangled noise in the back of my throat, and dropped the binoculars. Fortunately, I'd had the sense to use the neck strap. Unfortunately, that meant I got to feel the full weight of the binoculars yank against my neck.

"Sneaking up on new heroes will never stop being fucking hilarious," the voice behind me continued, giggling more than a little.

"Who the _fuck_ are- oh christ not you again," I said, turning around to behold one of the local celebrities, Glory Girl, looking far too pleased with herself.

"Again?" she asked, folding her arms. "And what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"I've met you before," I said. "But then, that was years ago. Remember that argument you got into about personality disorders and then Freudian Psychoanalysis, in Introductory Psychology?"

"...Oh, shit, you're _that_ guy," she said. "The hell are you doing _here?_ What _happened_ to you?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I said firmly. "Well. If you're done being an asshole, I've got some information you might be interested in."

"Done for how long?" she asked, sitting down on the rooftop next to me.

"Fuck you. Anyhow, there's a _lot_ of activity in this supposedly _abandoned_ warehouse. Like it's being used for its intended purpose. Lots of people coming in and out, a few trucks here and there. And y'know what I've noticed? Literally every person I've seen walk in or out of there was white."

"You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"That this belongs to the local Nazi gang?"

"Eyup."

"And also, that we should do something about this?" I added. "I was _gonna_ just go to the Protectorate and show them my notes, but I think you count as a higher authority for me to pass the buck to."

"Who said anything about passing the buck?" she asked. "C'mon. You wanna be a cape, you're gonna have to go on a raid at _some_ point. No time like the present. What've you got in that backpack of yours?"

"Weapons for emergency use," I said. "Y'know, thermobaric grenades, a machete. A gun."

"That's, uh. What was that first one?"

"Thermobaric grenades. Or, uh, the colloquial term is _fuel-air_ grenades. Well, no, an _actual_ colloquial term would be _firebomb_. It makes a huge fireball, but it only really works if it's got enough air. Makes a much more drawn out explosion than a conventional one. The intent with those is that if things go sideways enough that I actually _need_ that, then at least I'll _have_ it. I hope, dearly, that I don't need them."

"Yeah, I hope you don't need them, too. You realize fire tends to _spread_ , right?"

"I am also aware that it's raining every other goddamn day in this town. Anyhow, I've got some actual Tinkertech, too, although most of it is already installed in my head. Mostly hacking stuff. If you think you'd like to raid this place, I'd suggest sending some fake texts to the assholes inside, get them right where we want them."

"Alright, I can roll with that."

* * *

"...I think it's as convincing as it's ever going to be," Glory Girl said, reading over the text one final time. "Send it out."

"I feel like we burned _way_ too much time on this," I muttered, hitting the enter key. For the sake of showing her the actual text, I'd temporarily slaved my phone to the master computer I'd installed in my head, called the Virtual Machine.

"What's this _we_ shit? _You_ didn't think we needed to do more than a single round of editing."

"Well if I said _you_ burned too much time on it, it'd sound accusatory, and that's not what I was going for. Anyhow, the text is sent," I said. "I'm going to turn on someone's microphone so we can listen in on what goes next."

 _"...Victor says we gotta clear out in ten minutes! ...No, he didn't say, but it probably isn't going to change. ...Well guess what, Craig, I didn't_ ask _what you think. We don't pay you to do that, and you're damn lucky we don't, otherwise we'd want our money back! Now everyone clear out, I want this place empty in_ five _minutes!"_

"Hah, they bought it," I said.

"Ahem."

"Thank you for editing the text," I said primly, rolling my eyes. "Even if I hated every moment of it, I have no choice but to take on faith that your persnicketiness is why our bluff succeeded."

"There, was that so hard?"

"Fuck you."

"I have a boyfriend actually."

I rolled my eyes. She couldn't _see_ my eyes, but she could damn well see my _head_ , and the fact that it rolled along with my eyes.

"Alright, well, now we got time to kill," I said.

"...did you bring a deck of cards?"

* * *

"Son of a bitch," Vicky muttered, handing over her money. "Okay, I'll bite- tell me _how_ you won like that, and I won't get mad or try to take my money back."

"The Virtual Machine, which is the hacking computer in my head, can read and rewrite _any_ data storage device," I said. "And I mean _any_. Driver's licenses, paper documents, vinyl records... a deck of poker cards..."

"Oh you _bastard_."

"And now you know better than to play poker to me. Education's expensive, ain't it?"

"I'm pretty sure you _are_ a supervillain, and just pretending otherwise so I won't kick your ass."

"No, I'm just a bitch. Anyhow, it's been seven minutes. Let's get moving."

She groaned as she floated up, before letting her legs drop from their previous sitting position, and I stood up like a normal person, pocketing her money.

"So, you got anything resembling a plan, or am I gonna have to figure that out, too?" Vicky asked.

"Well, I figured we'd look around, see if we can find any incriminating documents or ledgers or anything, copy those down, and then hand those off to the relevant authorities, which in this case is probably your parents. A warrant is obtained, arrests are made, and we mildly inconvenience Empire 88."

"...Sounds solid enough," she admitted. "You got a plan for getting down from h- oh those are robot tentacles, not a cape."

"Yes, I _do_ have a plan for getting down," I said. "That plan is asking you to help because I don't want to make a loud noise when I hit the ground tentacle-first."

"Are those things safe to touch?" Vicky asked.

"I don't see why not," I said with a shrug. "And, well, if they're _not_... You're supposed to be invincible, aren't you?"

"...Alright, but if it goes haywire and tries to kill me, I'm going to break them."

"Duly noted. Let's get moving."

* * *

"Alright, let's start looking around," I said, unstrapping myself from the tentacles once we were inside. "Holler if you see anything you don't want to touch with your hands, I'll get the tentacles to deal with it."

"You can remote-control them?" Vicky asked.

"More or less, yeah. I'm taking them off because they're too bulky, and I want to try poking around in the office without knocking shit over."

"Can't you just scan for everything with that hacking shit?" Vicky asked.

"It doesn't work that way," I said, setting the tentacles to stand in one place like a headless facsimile of that slender man or whoever the fuck as I started towards the office. "I can only read and write to documents, I can't _locate_ them. And... well, it's got a short range, too. Which is why we're in here at all."

"Ugh, useless."

"I cleared an entire warehouse of people without them realizing anything was wrong."

"I do that every time I go to Taco Bell."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," I muttered. "Just start looking and let me know if you see anything, alright?"

She said something to the affirmative, which I didn't catch because I was scanning for nearby computers as I walked further into the warehouse. There was a computer- probably an old desktop- upstairs, along with a few cell phones downstairs- probably ours. I checked anyways, then realized I was pinging _three_ phones in the building.

"Oh shit," I said, turning around to see a man sneaking up on the tentacles. "Don't fucking touch that!" The man ignored me, trying to put the tentacles in a headlock, and in the process rubbing his filthy, mundane hands all over a fragile artifact of mad science.

It turned out I was wrong, those tentacles were _not_ safe to touch. They shuddered on their own, warping and radiating in ways only I could see, and suddenly the whole apparatus was completely, irreversibly disconnected from me, flooding my mind with unbidden knowledge from nowhere as I recognized, inexplicably, what I was seeing.

It had gone Orphan- gained a mind of its own and an atavistic, all-consuming hunger. Instead of a mindless drone, it was now fully an Automaton, albeit probably not a very smart one.

"AAAAA!"

Of course, in the process of being orphaned, it had mutated a bit, and gained a lovely set of talons at the end of its hands. Talons it just used to stab the poor, screaming man's wrist, forcing him to let go.

"Quick, grab the robot!" I yelled.

"But-"

" _Now!_ "

The Orphan bolted out the door, taking the time to arm and throw one of the fuel-air bombs I'd left in the backpack it was attached to. The door slammed and locked shut, trapping us in the warehouse with a Nazi and a bomb about to go off, and I found myself wondering why I even fucking bothered sometimes.


	2. Cry Havoc, Part 2

"Hit the deck!"

Did you know that being tackle-hugged to the floor, with your face buried in the tackler's chest, isn't actually a fun, comfortable experience? It is, in fact, uncomfortable to the point of painful, especially when it's immediately followed up by skidding on my back for ten feet, then a thermobaric bomb going off twenty five feet away.

A conventional bomb that has the oxidizer mixed in with the fuel explodes very quickly, within the space of a second or so. Fuel-air bombs, however, draw out their explosion a lot longer- this one lasted about five seconds of ear-crushing pressure and a lot of fire. Not bad for something the size of a one-liter soda bottle taped to a can of tuna.

Finally, the explosion abated, and Vicky got off of me, poking her head out from behind the crate we'd hidden behind to survey the damage.

"...Holy  _ shit _ ," she whispered.

"What's the- oh my god." The structure of the building itself was cracked and scorched, several crates were on fire, and what used to be a man was now charcoal. "...Y'know what, fuck it, this is the Nazi's problem.  _ Our _ problem is getting out of here and taking down that robot before it gets into its head to use any  _ more _ of those bombs."

"Yeah, what happened to that thing?" Vicky asked, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and flying out the now-open door. She set me down, and flew up, trying to spot the Orphaned robot. "Oh  _ sh- _ "

That was all the warning I really got before a truck sped down the alley, dinging the door and catching me full in the chest, picking me up and carrying me. Thankfully, the truck wasn't going very fast, but it very much still hurt. Through the windshield, I spotted the tentacle robot sitting in the driver's seat, where it was growing what looked like a head, which stared balefully at me with a single red eye that glowed with incomprehensible energies.

I planted my palms firmly on the hood of the truck, using my hacking implant to kill the engine, hit the airbags, and also throw on all of the brakes, because I was  _ reasonably _ certain that at  _ some _ point-

The truck threw me off, and I slammed back-first into a dumpster. It hurt, but not  _ too _ bad. A quick manual inspection confirmed a lack of profuse bleeding, and I climbed to my feet as the robot tore out of the truck. Vicky had finally caught up and joined the fray, and just as the Orphan turned around to face her, she caught it under its newly-formed chin with a powerful uppercut. She sent its head flying in a graceful arc, along with the rest of its body, which stayed stubbornly attached.

"... _ Wow _ is that thing's neck strong," she muttered.

"In the future, please  _ grab _ malfunctioning Automatons before pummeling them," I said through gritted teeth.

"Shut up and help me find the damn thing."

\---

It was two minutes later. She'd moved the truck back to the parking lot, where it was less likely to be noticed by anyone else, and we were hunting through the Docks for a rogue Automaton that didn't want to be found.

"Can't you just hack it and shut it down?" Vicky asked, as we flew through the Docks, holding me by the back of my shirt.

"No dice. I can only hack tech that  _ isn't _ sapient. Machine intelligences like this would require actual mind-control. We're just lucky I had the foresight to install a tracker in it. Turn right at that corner, it's just around-"

"Oh my god!"

We found the Automaton in a back alley, covered in blood and holding what used to be a stray cat and was now a loose collection of bloody meat scraps, animal hide, and bone.

"...well, now's the time to mention the machine's  _ always _ had a weird glitch," I said. "It eats live mammals. Has to eat at least one mouse worth of biomass per day to keep functioning."

"Why would you build it like that?!"

"I didn't do it on purpose!"

The automaton turned and fled, discarding the cat carcass(catcass? No.) as it ran out the other end of the alley. We followed after it, hot on its heels, until we emerged onto the street on the other side and found it hiding behind Uber and Leet, who looked like they'd come to the most inconvenient of all conclusions right now.

"Back off!" Uber yelled. "Get another fucking robot, this one is ours now!"

He was wearing something that looked like Link from a low-res Legend of Zelda game, except blue. Beside him was Leet, wearing the same costume except red, and behind both of them was the Automaton.

"That robot isn't anyone's," I said. "It's a feral beast with no capacity for morality, ethics, or even the enlightened self-interest of social behavior. It has nothing in its heart but an all-consuming hunger."

"Says you."

"Yes, says me, because  _ I'm the one who built the damn thing _ ."

"You want it so bad? Come and fucking get it!" Leet yelled, in an uncharacteristic show of boldness.

"Son of a bitch," I muttered.

"I got this," Vicky said, setting me down and cracking her knuckles. "You make sure that robot doesn't throw anymore bombs."

I ran diagonally to the ensuing beatdown, getting close but also moving a bit to the side so that I could see what was happening behind it. Uber and Leet proved themselves totally unprepared to deal with the human wrecking ball that was one Victoria Carol Dallon, and the Automaton found itself totally unwilling to stick around.

Now, I wasn't the fastest runner ever, and the Automaton  _ may _ have had ten foot tentacles for legs, but I did have the advantage of being a fucking cheater with some tricks up her sleeve.

Three seconds later, the Automaton had been snared in a bola and tripped over itself, and I was on top of it, strategically ripping out wires and cables. Once I ran out of those, I reached into another coat pocket and pulled out a monkey wrench.

"Jesus, you do  _ not _ do things by half," Vicky muttered as she floated up behind me in the middle of decapitating the robot. "But, uh, what's the point of ripping its head off? It's a robot, and it's already dead."

"I want it to  _ look _ dead."

"You want any help?"

"I would like for you to not touch any of this because I  _ really _ don't need this shit coming back to life and detonating its fucking bombs underneath me."

I frowned, then began taking the backpack off of the Automaton, putting that on my back and standing up.

"So what's next?" Vicky asked.

"Well, we've gotta do  _ something _ with this mess," I muttered. "And  _ then _ there's the fact that these tentacles were how I got out here in the first place, so I'm probably going to have to walk home."

"You need a lift?"

"That'd be very kind of you, thank you. Ugh. Well. Tonight sure was one hell of a learning experience, huh? I learned what a firebomb sounds like from twenty feet away, I learned what it feels like to get hit by a car,  _ and _ I learned that there's no situation so bad that it can't be made more obnoxious by the presence of Uber and Leet."

"Please tell me you've learned something else, tonight."

"Oh, right, I've  _ also _ learned that I should stop carrying firebombs around," I said.

" _ There _ we go."

"I've also learned that, if regularly having nights like this one is a requirement for insider status in the cape scene, then I am more than content to go back to being an outsider, because I'm reasonably certain that getting hit by a car is bad for my health."

"Huh, that's..." She trailed off, frowning. "Y'know, that actually makes me think. I'm a Parahuman Studies major, so I've been reading a  _ lot _ of stuff about cape psychology, and there's been this theory cropping up recently, called Agent Hypothesis, that capes are  _ driven _ to conflict by whatever it is that gives us powers, but now... I think that might just be survivorship bias. Y'know? Because, well, the only capes we really hear about are the ones who do shit and go out and get into fights, and the capes like  _ you _ who go out  _ once _ and then  _ stop _ going out the moment they hit a particularly tough roadblock... well, who's to say you're not the more common case, and we just never hear about people like you? What if  _ you're _ the normal one, and it's the rest of us who're weird?"

"Okay, you lost me when you called me normal," I said. "I mean, you've  _ met _ me, right?"

"Vaguely? I had, like, one class with you, two years ago, and I don't remember us really talking  _ except _ on that group activity thing, in which I said Freud had a few decent points and you laughed at me and called me a dumbass."

"If it makes you feel better, I also want to push the me of two years ago down the stairs."

"Tell you what- you wanted insider status in the cape scene, yeah?" Vicky asked. "How about we meet up out of costume, just chat, shoot the breeze, hang out? It's always nice meeting someone who's not too intimidated by me to run their mouth."

"I'm down with that," I said, shrugging. "We can even negotiate prices for my tinkertech."

"I just watched it get someone killed and get  _ you _ hit by a truck," Vicky said carefully.

"...See, you've already got a bargaining chip," I said.

"You just don't know when to quit, do you?"

"I'm a tremendous nerd who speaks in twelve-dollar words about 'insider status' and shit, you  _ really _ think I've got any social graces to speak of?" I asked. "I mean,  _ besides _ my ability to say funny things at people."

She inhaled deeply, before sighing loudly. "We'll work on that. Let's get out of here, before someone calls the cops or something."


	3. Interlude 1

"You think we should tell 'em?" Akane asked, while Samina dismantled the Orphaned Automaton. "I mean, it's not  _ their _ fault the damn thing split in two- it's not a  _ common _ thing for Orphans to do, so even if our little Echo Doctor has some understanding of Havoc, they might not know  _ this _ is an option."

Tanya shook her head. "Remember what Roland told us? Never,  _ ever _ put an Echo Doctor on the spot. We're going to let them go home, unwind, and  _ then _ we'll contact them with an invitation someplace they won't feel trapped."

"A little fucking  _ help _ here?!" Samina growled, wrestling with the tentacle robot and trying to get free enough to properly slash it with her sword.

"You already lopped off its head," Akane said. "I can only turn things to stone if they look me in the eyes, remember? No eyes, no Basilisk effect."

"I don't have anything that could be used offensively," Tanya said.

"Fucking  _ useless _ ," Samina muttered, before twisting her body around. In barely a second, the tentacle had been wrestled beneath her, with her arm free, and she began hacking at the tentacles in earnest. Soon enough, it was nothing but sparking scrap metal and wires. "I  _ gave _ you two swords, damnit! Why don't you have them with you?!"

"Roland said we can't carry them until  _ after _ we pass a basic swordsmanship test," Tanya reminded her. "I'm a good healer, but I'm not good enough to reattach any toes or arms we accidentally hack off."

Samina groaned, sheathing her swords. "And you two haven't passed yet  _ because? _ "

"We've been busy," Akane said. "It's  _ hard _ to find time to practice hitting people with sticks. Besides, that's  _ your _ job, isn't it? Specialization is the name of the game in cooperative endeavors."

"Can we not have this same argument  _ again? _ " Tanya asked. "Akane, what's the super-scope say about our Echo Doctor?"

"Well, first and foremost, it turns out they're  _ not _ an Echo Doctor, just a Lonesome," Akane said, as Samina hefted bits and pieces of Orphan into the back of the truck. "Hasn't gone Unmada yet. Surprisingly lucid. Catalyst... Neid."

Samina and Tanya groaned. "Not another fucking Neid," Tanya muttered.

"Can we just ignore this one, for once?" Samina asked. "Let Lemuria have this asshole. I know  _ I _ don't want 'em."

"Oh for christ's sake," Akane muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Neids are not  _ any crazier _ than the rest of us, okay? Chill the fuck out."

"Oh, you think the paranoid isolationists aren't that crazy," Samina said flatly. "The bitter, jealous assholes with no friends are models of stability and sanity."

"They  _ are _ that crazy, but more importantly,  _ so are we _ . Roland is half-convinced he's Jesus, for fuck's sake! And you know what? For all that Neids are as crazy as we are, they can be pretty damn lucid."

"The problem isn't that Neids are crazy," Tanya said. "The problem is that Neids are  _ fucking obnoxious _ . If I never meet another pseudointellectual quasi-incel who's bent out of shape that the universe isn't fellating him  _ quite _ as much as he'd like, it will  _ still _ be too soon."

"Hoffnungs are worse," Akane said. "As annoying as Neids are, they  _ intimately _ know when they aren't wanted, and will usually leave you alone. Hoffnungs are, to a man, possessed of unflappable confidence that they alone know what's best, and by god, come hell or high water, you  _ will _ hear all about it. I mean, christ, remember the  _ last _ Lonesome we picked up? That fucking Bitcoin loon who wouldn't shut up about whoever the fuck David Gerard is?"

"You have a point," Samina conceded. "Whoever the fuck this new kid is, they can't be any worse than Elliot was."

"And hey, look at it this way- this one is  _ Roland's _ problem, not ours," Akane added. "If this particular Lonesome is every last kind of insufferable and more, then it's  _ Roland _ who has to suffer them, not  _ us _ ."

"Alright, alright, quit twisting my arm, you win," Samina said, grinning.

\---

"I'm  _ fine- _ "

"Look, you can pull that lone wolf, 'I don't need anyone' crap any other time," Victoria said. "But less than an hour ago,  _ you got hit by a truck _ . You are  _ going _ to see a goddamn healer, come hell or high water." She landed on the doorstep, and carefully opened the front door of the Dallon household with one hand, the other busy carrying Rose, who'd settled on the cape name of 'Doctor Ophiuchus.'

"It's like ass o'clock."

"Yes, and if I know my sister- which I  _ do _ , she's my  _ sister _ \- then she'll still be up." Victoria closed the door as quietly as she could manage, which was surprisingly silent for someone with an armful of noisy, brat-like Tinker. She then hovered silently up the stairs, the sound of running water telling her Amy was in the bathroom, and grinned as the water cut off. She and Rose only had to wait a minute before the bathroom door opened, revealing Amy standing there in a bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her head.

Amy stared flatly, before groaning loudly. "Alright, what did you break  _ this _ time?"

"Hey, she got  _ herself _ hit by a truck," Victoria said defensively.

"This is why we can't have nice things," Amy muttered. "Alright, dipshit, let's get this over with. I've got class tomorrow."

"You two suck."

"Cool, don't care. Roll up a sleeve or something, I need skin contact to work with."

Rose grumbled quietly, pushing up one sleeve of her longcoat to reveal a lightly tanned but still white forearm. Her costume was somewhat more comprehensive than most new independent hero costumes, and left no skin otherwise exposed, even going so far as to hide her eyes behind darkened lenses. There wasn't much rhyme or rhythm to the costume outside of that, but as far as a first night out went, it wasn't bad.

"Jesus christ, brush your  _ fucking _ teeth," Amy muttered, grabbing Rose's wrist and closing her eyes. "Alright, you had some bruising, and a hairline crack on one of your floating ribs. Nothing too major, but better safe than sorry. Now, if that's all,  _ some _ of us have  _ class _ in the morning." Amy didn't wait for an answer, and squeezed past them, heading for her room.

"Your sister's got a  _ terrible _ bedside manner," Rose muttered.

"Well, you know," Victoria said with a shrug. "Nobody goes to see the doctor because they're having a good time. She'll warm up over time, she's just a little cranky."

"Right, well, I think I've had my fill of New Wave nonsense for a lifetime. I'd like to go home now, please."

"You still up for lunch sometime?"

"...I'll sleep on it."


	4. Funding Fundamentals, Part 1

"-and then I said, 'Trucker? I 'ardly  _ know _ 'er!'"

I sat there, motionless, processing the sheer insanity of the story I'd just been told. Finally, I came up with a response.

"And then the talent agent said, that's a hell of a show you've got there, what do you call that act?"

"The Aristocrats!" Vicky declared, before cackling.

"So, here's my question," I said. "Why in  _ god's _ name did you pick the mall food court as our venue, and then as soon as we got our food you decided to go back to my car? What's the  _ point? _ "

"What, you mean  _ besides _ the fact that Auntie Anne's is apparently  _ only _ located in malls and airports?" she asked. And to be fair, we  _ had _ both gotten an inadvisable number of cinnamon sugar pretzels from there. "Well, telling the truth, I was always kinda bummed out by the fact that I never got a chance to be a proper mall rat. But, also, we can't have a private conversation in the food court, so..."

"Hm. Fair enough, I suppose," I said with a shrug. "And, well. The pretzels are  _ very _ good."

"Oh, for sure. I tried to get a sponsorship from them once, y'know."

"How'd that work out?"

"It didn't."

I snorted, starting to giggle with my mouth closed.

"So, what've  _ you _ been up to?" she asked, before taking a big bite of pretzel.

"Oh, y'know, more Tinker bullshit," I said with a shrug. "I've been studying how those tentacles mutated when they went haywire, and I've figured out how to replicate something...  _ kinda _ similar that I think is pretty useful."

"Oooooh, do I get to see a demonstration?"

"The hell kinda mad scientist do you take me for?" I asked, feigning affront. "Of  _ course _ you get to see a demonstration. Gentlemen,  _ behold! _ "

I glanced in the rear-view mirror, then grumbled and flipped down the sun visor to reveal the mirror embedded in its inside, so I could properly see what I was doing. And then, with a ripple of flesh like dropping a pebble in a pond, suddenly I looked exactly like Vicky, right down to the bright blue eyes and the-

"Well, I should've seen  _ that _ coming," I muttered, glancing down at my shirt, which was now uncomfortably stretched out. "Shit. Uh... hang on." I transformed again, this time into a reasonable approximation of Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson. "Okay, that actually made it  _ worse _ ," I said, shifting back to normal right as I heard the sound of cloth ripping. "Goddamnit, fucking piece of shit..."

"Okay, so, I was  _ going _ to say that was kind of terrifying, since shapeshifters are inherently huge security risks for  _ everyone _ ," Vicky said, "but also, if it doesn't work on your clothes... that makes me feel a lot better."

"Personally, I don't give a shit about turning into other people," I said. "What I  _ am _ concerned with is turning into what I  _ should _ look like, which is a lot like myself, except with bigger boobs, because goddamnit I deserve them. And maybe horns. Hang on, lemme try something..." I watched a pair of curly ram's horns spiral out of the top of my head, and grinned. "Oh,  _ hell _ yes."

"Huh. Can I touch them?"

"Yeah, go ahead, just try not to break them. Horns are generally alive underneath the keratin laye-  _ ack! _ Do not fucking  _ pull _ on my goddamn  _ horns _ , what is  _ wrong _ with you?!"

"I wanted to see if it reacted like hair."

"Well, it does, in that if you pull on it again I'm going to demonstrate exactly how invincible you are  _ not _ . Fucking  _ quit that _ ."

"Alright, alright, relax. So, here's a question- how the hell are you paying for all this tech?"

I winced. "I...  _ had  _ some savings, but..."

"Need to find a job, yeah?"

"Yep. Preferably sooner than later. I've got ideas, but I can't really afford to pursue them. So... yeah, I'm gonna try shopping around my tinker abilities."

"Well, if you wanna get your mind off the job hunt, and maybe meet some new people, there's a party coming up that my boyfriend is hosting. Said I should bring you along, get you acquainted with some people."

"I'll keep it in mind. Depending on how the job hunt goes, I may need to avail myself of any and all liquor this party will presumably have."

"Excuse you, Rose, but Dean and I are nineteen, and law-abiding citizens," Vicky said primly.

I stared at her flatly.

"I'll see if we can swing a few extra bottles of Jack."

* * *

"And this... robot dog of yours," Deputy Director Renick continued, reaching out to poke it. I opened my mouth to warn him, but too late- the moment he did, it sparked with electricity- despite being made entirely out of wood and plastic and being controlled by a clockwork dynamo- and mutated, growing a jaw with very,  _ very _ sharp teeth. It snapped immediately, and took off his pointer finger.

The response, thankfully, was swift, and Miss Militia riddled the robot with bullets until she ran out of bullets. Overkill, but understandable.  _ Then _ the gun turned into a sledgehammer, and she smashed the remains of the robot into splinters.

"It's  _ dead _ ," I said.

"I want it to  _ look _ dead," she said. Hang on, did  _ she _ read Schlock Mercenary, too? "Deputy Director, are you okay?"

"Get  _ out _ ," he said, glaring at me.

* * *

"You know, in addition to running Citadel Construction, here, I also do some consultation for the PRT sometimes," Thomas Calvert said, standing in front of the window of his office, looking out over the city, and more specifically at the PRT building. "Used to work there directly, back in the day. These days, I've still got friends there. So I hear things."

"Ah." My stomach dropped.

"If you've come here to hawk your defective robots, I'm afraid my answer is  _ no _ ," he said flatly, turning to face me. "You take your goddamn fucking voodoo magic and you get it  _ far _ away from my jobsite before it gets someone  _ killed _ ."

* * *

"So, Mr. Ophiuchus..."

"I prefer  _ Doctor _ Ophiuchus, if you don't mind," I corrected her. "And if you  _ do _ , it would be  _ Miss _ Ophiuchus."

"Mm. Tell me more about these computers of yours."

"What do you want to know?"

"What is the  _ catch? _ " she asked. Jessica Biermann, the Medhall Human Resources employee responsible for interviewing me, was tall, blonde, and athletic- she sort of looked like if Vicky dyed her hair honey blonde, and was also in her late 20s. "Looking at what little information we have, it seems too good to be true. If you were exaggerating for effect, I can understand, but I  _ will _ require a more realistic estimate before we move on."

"Well, unlike the majority of Tinkers, my technology is sustained by my power directly," I said. "Nothing I build should, logically, work, but it does anyways because my power  _ forces _ it to work."

"And so if you leave Medhall for greener pastures, what you've built for us will stop functioning, correct?"

"...And it will also stop functioning in very dramatic ways if messed with by other people."

"Well, Doctor, I'm sorry for wasting your time. I wish you good luck on your search."

"I'll show myself out, then."

* * *

"Unfortunately, none of what you've built can really be integrated into New Wave's public image with any degree of elegance," Lady Photon said. "And our policy of unmasking is, unfortunately, inviolate. If you  _ do _ join, you  _ will _ have to unmask."

I steepled my fingers, thinking  _ very _ hard.

"Yes, you really do have to go through with it," she said. "It's not  _ that _ bad, I promise."

"You know what, no, nevermind," I said, standing up and heading for the door. "Sorry for wasting your time."

* * *

"Tell you what," Faultline said, eyeing me warily. "If your talent with computers extends to  _ hacking _ , then I have a spot open for you on my crew. It's a standing offer, until we get another hacker."

"Of course you want me to break the law, why wouldn't you," I muttered. "Why did I even fucking bother?"

"Because you're broke and desperate, just like every other independent cape who turns to villainy?"

"You'd think the Protectorate would have some sort of program that gives people like me funding and workspace just to keep us out of circulation, but they must be gravely offended by the notion of anyone getting something that they don't deserve."

"They do, actually, but apparently they don't extend that courtesy to people whose tech bites off the Deputy Director's finger."

"Oh, good,  _ everyone's _ heard that fucking story now."

"You need a drink?" Faultline was already grabbing a bottle off one of the shelves- we were inside a nightclub, albeit in the early afternoon.

"It's not even five o'clock, you lush," I said.

"It is  _ somewhere _ ," she said with a shrug.

"Anyhow... no, no drinks for me. I've gotta get home, and I have  _ no idea _ how high my alcohol tolerance is. Generally, I don't drink."

"You sound joyless."

"And you sound like the villain of a fucking anti-drug ad. I'm leaving."

"Good luck, Doctor. You're gonna need it."

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, and welcome back to Doctor Ophiuchus. Some of you might notice the similarities between this and the beginning of the first Dr. Ophiuchus; that's not an accident. But, I can assure you, things are going to go wildly off those rails soon enough. Give it... oh, until Chapter 5, I'd say.


End file.
